


Sammy, We're Goin' Down

by CasseroleReynolds



Series: Wee-cest is Best [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Homophobic Slurs, M/M, Slurs, idk how graphic but there is violence, lil bit of smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 20:54:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2555318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CasseroleReynolds/pseuds/CasseroleReynolds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean come back to the hotel and John has left. He eventually comes back and the boys have a growing suspicion that he's found out what they're doing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sammy, We're Goin' Down

Dean and Sam drove back to the motel with pants still unbuttoned and smiles on their faces. They only noticed John's truck was gone because it told them they could kiss before they got out of the car and after they got out of the car and as they walked to the door and when they opened the door and...Well, I think you get the idea.

They made out in their bed for a while until they lost track of time and realized it was long past 1 in the morning and John still wasn't back. Dean tried to call him but it rang twice before going to voicemail. They went to the front desk and asked if they'd seen him.

“He checked out a few hours ago. “

They tried calling him again. Directly to voicemail.

They ran back to the room and hastily packed up their stuff and hit the road. Sam dialed and redialed John's number as Dean drove. It was three a.m. and still nothing. They stopped on the side of the road and fell asleep together in the backseat.

A few hours later Dean woke to his ringtone of some guitar riff coming from the front seat. He leaned over the back of the seat and swiped it before it could wake up Sam, answering it without looking at the caller ID.

“Hello?” he asked quietly.

“Dean, I'm busy on a hunt. Stop calling me,” was all John said before promptly hanging up.

Dean slowly lowered the phone from his ear and stared blankly out the window. He was brought out of his reverie by a soft kiss on the back of his neck. Dean hummed contentedly and turned around.

“Who was that?” Sam asked, voice gruff with sleep.

Dean smirked at the sound. He'd always loved the way Sam sounded in the mornings. He pressed his lips against Sam's for a moment before replying. “Dad. He said he was on a hunt and that we shouldn't call him,” he frowned.

“That's weird,” Sam said, sinking back into the seat. “Did he say why?”

Dean shook his head. “He was really abrupt about it then he hung up.”

“Maybe he knows what he's doing,” Sam shrugged.

Dean sighed and slid back next to his younger brother. “Let's hope.”

A week later, John called back and told them he would be in Memphis and that he would need their help on this hunt. They met up the next day at the motel. After checking in, they went to the room and Dean and Sam put their duffels on their bed.

“You boys are getting too old to share a bed,” John barked, earning two confused looks from his sons. He continued, “Dean, you'll sleep on the couch from now on.”

Dean scoffed. “Dad, those couches are always super uncomfortable.”

Sam interposed warily, “Besides, I don't think we're getting too old–”

“You aren't sharing a bed anymore and that's final,” John snapped. He threw his duffel on his bed before snatching Dean's and throwing it on the couch. “Get ready, we're going to the house in an hour,” he said before taking a set of clothes and a towel into the bathroom for a shower.

Dean and Sam stared at each other for a long moment before either of them talked.

“You don't think...” Sam began, raising an eyebrow.

Dean shook his head nervously. “No, there's no way he knows. Besides, I'm almost 19,” he added, “That _is_ kinda old to be sharing a bed with your brother.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, that's totally it,” he agreed.

For the next few weeks, they tried to ignore the thought that John knew about them. John didn't make it easy. He wouldn't leave them alone together in the motel rooms, usually taking Sam with him wherever he was going and making him stay in the truck with no explanation as to why. When they were traveling from hunt to hunt he'd make Sam ride with him.

John did know, though. He was standing in the open doorway when he saw Sam kiss Dean in the front seat of the Impala He started regretting even letting him have the car. If John had known that his sons were fooling around he would have never given them a mobile place to do it.

And as for Dean and Sam “fooling around,” they hadn't as much as kissed since before their dad reappeared after that week of being gone. It was really getting to them. Usually they'd be able to hide their lust for each other, knowing they would just fuck later. But when Dean would get worked up and sweaty from digging a grave Sam couldn't ignore the tightening of his pants. But at least Dean had the time to take care of his own problems when John would take Sam out to wherever he could drink away the idea of his boys kissing each other.

They could no longer risk waking John up in the middle of the night to his sons frotting in the bed next to his.

After a while John stopped taking Sam with him wherever he went, and they figured he had finally decided there was nothing going on.

The Winchesters were squatting in an abandoned house on the outskirts of a town with a haunted library and Sam couldn't take it anymore. He decided to wait for John to leave for the night.

Dean was sitting on the threadbare couch in the middle of the room thumbing through half of an old issue of Field and Stream that he found wedged in the cushions. Sam sat on the metal folding chair across from him, bouncing his leg impatiently. John finally announced his exit with a vague explanation that usually meant he'd be drinking 'til dawn.

Sam hopped from the chair to the couch and plucked the wrinkled magazine from Dean's hands. Dean smirked at him, knowing what it meant. He cupped Sam's face in his hands and kissed him roughly. He pushed him down on the couch while Sam pawed at his zipper.

“Hey, slow down, kid,” Dean whispered against his lips.

Sam lightly bit his lip and said, “I've just missed you so much.”

Dean dipped down and kissed along his jaw. “We've got plenty of time, don't worry.” He slipped his hands under Sam's shirt and rubbed his thumbs over his nipples, eliciting a soft mewl from the boy. He pressed his hips against Sam's and grinded slowly.

Sam gasped and writhed under his brother. He'd waited for this for so long. “Dean...please.” Dean chuckled at his plea and continued kissing down his neck. Sam sighed and peeled off his shirt, giving Dean access to more skin.

Dean's lips traveled down his chest and settled teasingly close to Sam's jeans. He nipped at Sam's hipbones and his hands slid under his ass. Dean's fingers traced the waistband at the back of his jeans, pulling them down slightly.

Eventually, they were both completely naked and Dean was almost fully seated on Sam's cock and suddenly he was being shove hard from the side. After falling face-down on the floor, he looked up to see John standing behind the couch with a bottle half-full of scotch in his hand and a furious expression on his face.

“I knew it,” he growled. “This whole time, you boys have been fucking behind my back. My own sons, sucking each others dicks like a couple of faggots.”

Dean scrambled for his and Sam's clothes on the floor, tossing Sam his jeans while he tried to pull on his own.

“D-Dad, please,” he stuttered.

“Not a word,” John fumed, pointing with the hand that held the bottle before taking a gulp from it. “You two...th' whole time...” He glanced at Sam who was now standing partially behind Dean and noticed the hickeys that were scattered across his bare chest. John pointed at them in horror. “How could you let him do this to you?” He finished off the scotch and threw the empty bottle at Dean's feet. Dean winced and took a small step back. “You're his older brother!” he roared, “You were supposed to take care of him, not–“ He cut himself off and turned away scrubbing a hand over his mouth, unable to even say out loud what his sons were doing.

Dean looked at the broken glass that cut into his feet then back up at John. Though the couch was separating them, Dean was scared that anything he said would probably earn himself a punch in the face. He stayed silent as John screamed slurs at him.

“I just can't believe this,” he continued, pacing behind the couch as Dean and Sam stood frozen in fear. “What even put it in your head that this was a good idea?” John had turned on them and seemed to expect an answer. “Well?”

Dean heard Sam softly clear his throat from behind him. “We were just–“

“It's my fault,” Dean interrupted. “I... I forced myself on Sam.” A nervous sweat broke out on Dean's face as he lied and watched John turn red with anger. Sam stared confused at Dean. He hesitantly continued, “He didn't want to do it; I h-had to convince him.” Dean knew his father would be angry at both of them but maybe by saying this would direct John's anger only at himself and Sam would be alright.

John lunged over the couch and toward Dean, landing a punch just below his eye. Sam screamed. Dean held back tears and kept his face like stone as John continued beating him. Sam backed away to the wall and sat against it. He cupped a hand over his mouth as he cried silently, watching his brother get pummeled by their own father. He could hear someone calling his name, but he wasn't listening. Sam couldn't really hear over the ringing in his ears and the sounds of fists on skin.

The rest of the night became a blur and Sam could vaguely process being pulled up and moved to the door and outside to a car. He wasn't sure who it was, he hoped it was a police officer who somehow knew they were here.

* * *

Sam woke hours later slouched against the door of whatever car he was in. Still processing where he was, he looked around quizzically. Whoever had put him in this car had draped a leather jacket over him and was now nowhere in sight. Sam looked out the window and realized he was at a gas station and whoever was with him was probably inside paying.

The driver side door opened and Sam flinched at the sound of the old hinge. A bottle of Powerade and a bag of doughnuts were being shoved at him and a familiar voice filled the car.

“How ya feelin', Sammy?”

Sam's eyes darted over to the source of the voice and saw his brother, bruised and smiling. Sam slid across the seat and threw his arms around Dean.

“I thought...” he whispered. “I thought Dad was gonna kill you.” Sam's grip tightened around Dean's shoulders. “I thought he...”

Dean dropped the food on the seat and slid his arms around Sam. “It's okay,” he whispered back. “Everything's fine.”

Sam sniffled. He hadn't realized he was crying. “Why did you say...what you said?”

Dean sighed and pulled back slightly. “If we had said anything else he would have beat us both. I needed to keep you safe.”

Sam softly kissed Dean's split lip. “So...what happened last night?” The younger Winchester asked hesitantly.

Dean quickly explained how after John started wailing on him, he started fighting back and eventually knocked him out. He told him about how Sam was crying and when Dean tried to get his attention he had completely checked out.

“And so I left John in the house and I knew I had to get you out of there,” Dean finished, pulling out of the parking space and driving to the exit of the lot. “We're about three states away, now.”

Sam laid across the front seat with his head in Dean's lap, looking up at his big brother.

“I love you,” he whispered.

Dean glanced down at him and smirked. “I love you, too,” he replied as he looked back at the road ahead.

 

**Author's Note:**

> gee i wonder what the title is based from. 
> 
> (ps it's sugar we're goin down)


End file.
